by numbers

whenever i'm given some new diagnosis, i have a tendency to research the hell out of it. usually to the point of obsession and/or insanity. melanoma is no exception. none of my doctors thus far have given me any specific information on whether or not i'm going to die, for example, and i don't blame them -- but i'm perfectly capable of making that judgement myself.

it's funny; i'd be the first to say that diagnosing oneself is bad. but i have an uncanny ability to do that, and do it accurately. even more, i have a record of strangely coincidental prediction of future health conditions. every once in a while i'll be reading an article and be hit by a strong feeling that one day, i'll be in that situation. a good example is an article i read a couple years ago on pain treatment and how the oxycontin stigma created by the media has been detrimental to the quality of treatment of chronic pain. this little voice said, "someday that'll be me." and here i am.

and so the last few weeks i've done a lot of reading about skin cancer. when i first went in for my exam, before i had any idea this was anything other than paranoia, people assured me that even if it was cancer it was probably no big deal, that lots of people have suspicious moles removed and there's nothing more to it than that. i kind of smiled and nodded but had a sinking feeling in my chest that given how the doctor had talked to me, this was more than that.

after last week, after finding out that though the cancer was 1.25 mm deep (placing it in the low-intermediate range of risk), because it was ulcerated and bleeding and leaking weird fluid, it's treated as if it was 2-4 mm deep (lots worse, but not in the very worst category, which would be over 4 mm). i started looking at statistics. if the surgery i'm having soon does not reveal any metastases, and the lymph nodes are clear, i have a 70-80% survival rate over five years. that sounds pretty good until you turn it around, when you realize that that means theres a 20-30% chance i'll die before i'm 28 from cancer.

five people sitting around a table with stage II melanoma. skip to five years later, one's dead and buried. am i that one?

a calculator i found today places my 10 year survival rate even lower if you consider that the cancer is just barely in the "axial" region (on my hip, too high to be considered "extremity") -- somewhere between 50% and 70%. and that's using 2 mm as the depth. if you make it higher, 4 mm, it becomes a lot more likely that i'll die before i hit 35.

now it gets frightening.

i can't get the numbers out of my head. i'm not afraid of death, though. i'm afraid of what happens between now and then. that stage II melanoma can result in death at those rates says that even though it can appear completely removed surgically, it has a high recurrence rate and metastasizes even when it is thought to be in remission. that eventuality requires treatments like further surgery, chemo, radiation -- things that are hell on earth, that require huge amounts of energy and strength, that i simply DO NOT WANT TO EXPERIENCE.

period.

thats what scares me. dying is fine. dying slowly and painfully and after losing a long and difficult fight scares me because of the fighting required. death is just the release at the end.

here's another fun statistic:
Average life years lost from Melanoma: 18.6 years

so just because of this tiny black spot on my hip, i've potentially already lost almost 20 years from my projected lifetime.

all these numbers brought me to a conclusion this past weekend that i think is critical. whatever it is that i want to do or experience in my life, i need to plan to do it in the next five years. whether it is to travel or to fly an airplane, i have to make it happen NOW. as soon as possible. while i still can, and not only that, while i'm still strong enough. i don't know if i have much time or if i'll be able to do even a fraction of what i want. but i have to try and i can't wait.

the first project on the list: to paint. it sounds small, but for a very long time i've wanted to paint big, to take brushes drenched in bright colour and bring them across huge canvases. to use my body in big ways to create art that shows the world what's in my head. this weekend we went to loew's and bought paint, brushes, and plywood to paint on. i've primed them and tomorrow i'll be starting my first masterpiece. i'd already have started, but my girlfriend is leaving for a trip tomorrow morning and i decided i'll have plenty of time while she's gone to play, and to spend the past couple days with her when i have free time.

it sounds kinda silly, really small, fairly unimportant. but i have to find a way to break out of myself and out of the binding inhibitions i've been trapped by my whole life. if i can really learn to move and to communicate through art without being afraid, without self-criticism, without requiring that i meet some standard, i can take first steps out of this trap.

i want to be able to say that, should i die in the next few years, i've accomplished and experienced everything i wanted, or if i didn't, i certainly tried. now is not the time to sit on my hands. this may be the only chance i have.